


Hetalia One-Shots

by LadyCookieCupcake



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cheating, Child America, Child Canada, Established Relationship, Fae & Fairies, Female Reader, Gen, Multi, One-Shots, Other, Parent England (Hetalia), Parent France (Hetalia), Parent Reader, Protective England (Hetalia), Unhealthy Relationships, gender neutral reader, male reader - Freeform, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCookieCupcake/pseuds/LadyCookieCupcake
Summary: A collection of one-shots centered around the Hetalia characters, based around various prompts I find over the internet.
Relationships: America (Hetalia) & Reader, America (Hetalia)/Reader, Canada (Hetalia) & Reader, Canada (Hetalia)/Reader, England (Hetalia) & Reader, England (Hetalia)/Reader, France (Hetalia) & Reader, France (Hetalia)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. One-Shot Guide

**_NSFW Tags:_ **

  * NSFW-S = Not Safe For Work-Smut
  * NSFW-V = Not Safe For Work-Violence
  * NSFW-D = Not Safe For Work-Death



_**SFW Tags:** _

  * SFW-Fa = Safe For Work-Family
  * SFW-Fl = Safe For Work-Fluff
  * SFW-G = Safe For Work-Generic
  * SFW-H/C = Safe For Work-Hurt/Comfort
  * SFW-Co = Safe For Work-Comfort
  * SFW-ER = Safe For Work-Established Relationship



Also, you may have seen a lot of these already, as I published them before on here. However, I wanted all of the one-shots put together, though, so they're a bit neater. So apologies for any confusion I may have caused. :)

This is unfinished as I still need to edit the other fics in, so I'm sorry this is such a mess right now. :)

* * *

**{{ A l l }}**

  * I'll Take Care of You | Chapter 1 ((SFW-FA))



{{ A m e r i c a | A l f r e d_F._J o n a s }}

  * 9/11 Tribute | Chapter 2 ((SFW-H/C; SFW-Co))



  * Christmas Shopping | Chapter 3 ((SFW-Pl; SFW-G;; SFW-Fl))



  * Commando | Chapter 3 ((SFW-Fa;; SFW-G))



  * Curse | Chapter 4 ((SFW-H/C;; NSFW-D))



  * Decorating the Tree | Chapter 5 ((SFW-Fa; SFW-Fl))



  * Enduring the Pain | Chapter 6 (SFW-Fa; SFW-G))



  * Fireworks | Chapter 7 (SFW-Fa; SFW-G; SFW-Fl))



  * Fortresses | Chapter 8 ((SFW-Fa; SFW-Fl))



  * Friends Come Back | Chapter 9 ((SFW-Fa; SFW-C))



  * Hell Hath No Fury | Chapter 10 ((SFW-Fa; SFW-G))



  * Hero or Doofus - ft. America 2p | Chapter 11 ((SFW-G; SFW-H))



  * How Could You Betray me? | Chapter 12 ((SFW-H/C; SFW-ER))



  * It's a Christmas Miracle! (Not) | Chapter 13 ((SFW-Fa; SFW-Fl))



  * Midnight Snacks | Chapter 14 ((SFW-Fl; SFW-G; SFW-ER)



  * Monster In My Dreams | Chapter 15 ((SFW-Fa; SFW-C))



  * Snowmen Armies | Chapter 16 ((SFW-Fa; SFW-Fl))



  * Stern Haunting | Chapter 17 ((SFW-Fa; SFW-G))



  * Try It Before You Dislike It | Chapter 18 ((SFW-Fa; SFW-Fl; SFW-G))



  * Two Roads | Chapter 19 ((SFW-Fa; SFW-G))



{{ B e l a r u s | N a t a l i a_A r l o v s k a y a }}

{{ C a n a d a | M a t t h e w_W i l l i a m s }}

{{ E n g l a n d | A r t h u r_K i r k l a n d }}

{{ F r a n c e | F r a n c i s_Bo n n e f o y }}

{{ G e r m a n y | L u d w i g_B e i l s c h m i d t }}

{{ H u n g a r y | E l i z a b e t a_H é d e r v á r y }}

{{ P r u s s i a | G i l b e r t_Be i l s c h m i d t }}

{{ U k r a i n e | K a t y u s h a_B r a g i n s k y}}


	2. try it before you dislike it | child!america & child!canada

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published: 17/02/2018  
> edited: n/a

“I’m home!”

The sound of thumping footsteps could be heard before a figure came crashing through the doorway. They were so close to stopping gracefully, and then the rug decided to remind them of it being there. Your son went flying through the air before you could warn him. He landed on the rug with a dull thud.

You blinked. Well, that just happened, you thought.

"You alright, love?" A muffle followed by a quick thumbs up was the only response you got. Shaking your head, you gripped the bags tightly and stepped over your eldest son.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to run in the house?" You questioned, though you knew it may as well have been a thought with the amount of response you got. You sighed. This conversation began the moment Alfred and Matthew learned how to walk, and you don't think you'll ever have to stop repeating yourself.

They'll never learn, you thought.

"Come help with the bags, will you?" You called, and it took a couple of seconds for an answer to come. When it did, it came in the form of another muffle before that too went silent.

As like before, you understood not a single word of what he'd just said. You rolled your eyes.

"Alfred, get off the floor and come help," You ordered as you turned back to the shopping bags.

There was a groan and not a moment later, your other son appeared through the door, placing his iPod in his pocket so he could help and listen to the music at the same time. You smiled as he absently bobbed his head to his music; you were glad he enjoyed it and actually made use of it.

You'd brought both him and Matthew an iPod, knowing how much they enjoyed their music, but only Matthew really used it. Alfred preferred making his own music on his drums, which you wouldn't mind if it wasn't loud enough to annoy the neighbours.

Though he only ever did it during the day, you knew at some point there was going to be a letter of noise complaints coming through your door. It was why you had been thinking of changing the garage into a music room of sorts; at least that way there's enough space for Matthew to practice his own guitar and you could pad the walls with soundproofing.

"Mum, have you got the cake?" Alfred asked, suddenly beside you. You startled, a hand almost going instinctively to your heart before you tampered the urge down. It wasn't very hard to do when you saw his face.

You frowned; his left cheek was an unnaturally red colour and there looked to be a slowly darkening patch on the bridge of his nose. Your heart thudded in concern. You hadn't realised how hard he'd gone down, especially not enough to cause damage.

Forgetting about the shopping, you quickly ran a hand over the damaged areas, only to pull back quickly when he winced. You apologised, a furrow between your brows a permanent fixture as you continued to stare at his nose and cheek. Behind you, Matthew had stopped as well, his own frown on his face.

You turned to the sink, switching the tap on and grabbing a discarded tea-towel to wet.

"Why can't you just walk into the house? Why must you run? I mean, the number of times I've told you to walk and not run is astonishing, and yet still you run!" You chided, your voice a loud mixture of concerned exasperation. Alfred was looking down at his shoes and Matthew held a look of guilt on his brother's behalf, but while you didn't want to upset them, you weren't going to let them go without knowing you weren't joking.

You only said these things to make sure they knew they could get hurt; you were trying to warn them.

You sighed and turned the tap off. Pressing the tea-towel to his face, you manage to arrange it so it covered his nose and cheek completely, and then told him to hold it there gently. He did so before sitting down on the chair you pointed him to.

Turning back to the shopping, Matthew following suit, there was a moment of silence in which you calmed yourself down, and then you interrupted it by jokingly saying, "Well, that's one way of getting out of helping."

And just like that, the tension that had built up when you saw Alfred's bruises, disappeared.

"To answer your question Al, I wasn't able to get the double chocolate sponge-," You were interrupted by Alfred groaning but a raised eyebrow from you caused him to stop, sheepishly staring down at the ground.

“I got the fruitcake though. I’ve also got us some cream to go with it.” You explained. It was a family tradition to buy one for Christmas Eve, so everyone could have at least a slice of it with cream. It was a silly, simple tradition but it was one you were planning on keeping, even if it never got eaten.

“Oh! I wanted to try that!” Matthew states excitedly, remembering asking for it yesterday. He’d seen someone make it on one of the many Christmas channels, and upon realising he’s never had it, Matthew had asked if you two could make it. Unfortunately, you didn’t really have the time to make it, but you didn’t want to deny your son a Christmas delicacy so you promised to get some when you next went shopping.

The look of excitement in your youngest’s eyes at getting the chance to try something new made your heart bloom with joy, but one look at your eldest’s face made it deflate just a little.

“Alfred, you haven’t even tried it.” You tried, but all you got was a huff and him turning away from you, unable to do anything with his hands full of a damp tea-towel. You put your hands on your hips, said hips jutting to the side a little.

“Alfred,” You warned, and the huffing and puffing you knew Alfred would’ve done seemed to die down a little. Of course, you could still see he was annoyed at the fact he couldn’t get a chocolate cake, but he wasn’t going to throw a tantrum at least.

“You can smother it in cream if it helps.” Matthew offers not-so-helpfully but you smile at him anyway. Alfred nods, his face crestfallen before sighing as if he'd been denied a slice of heaven - which maybe he was, according to him. You shook your head fondly. Maybe he would enjoy the fruitcake; he'd never know, after all.

*~*~*~*~*

He still wasn’t happy when the dinner finally came and went, and you decided once your food had gone down and you were sure you weren't overfilling yourself, you’d cut a bit off for your sons to try. You poured a little of the liquid cream into a cup in case they wanted to try it with that, and placed it on the side for them.

Matthew tried it first, after picking the white thin icing off - he never did like icing that much - and when he did, his eyes lit up. He dug into it like a starved man and before Alfred had even bit into his first bite, he had finished it.

“Did you like it by any chance?” You joked and Matthew blushed and nodded, sheepishly smiling. You smiled at him and looked over at Alfred, who was still looking at the slice like it would eat him if he got too close to it.

You told him as such too, jokingly reassuring him it wouldn’t, and he blushed in embarrassment and frustration. Still, he just glared.

“Alfred, please just try a bit. You won’t know if you like it until you’ve tried it.” You reasoned and then added when he seemed to hesitate still, “Besides, I refuse to buy any other cake until you try it.”

You weren’t going to have him act childish concerning this whole cake business. Sure, if he tried it and still didn’t like it, you would find something else he'd like, but at least he’s tried it though. That's all you wanted him to do.

He seemed to startle at that and though he still hesitated a little, he eventually sighed and carefully put a bite into his mouth.

Alfred’s eyes lit up and he too dug into the cake, finishing it off in record time. He looked up as if to ask for more, and you shook your head.

“It was just to try,” You explained, standing up and putting the dishes in the sink to be washed. You’ll wash them later, if you remembered.

“Save some for Christmas Eve.” Alfred frowned but then perked up when you asked the boys if they wanted a hot chocolate.

Chuckling softly, you went about making it. Well, at least he tried it and likes it, you thought, maybe I can continue this tradition after all. You smiled at the thought and flipped the kettle switch down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	3. fairies in the woods | england

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published: 24/12/2017  
> edited: n/a

Of all the things to agree to, why’d I agree to this?

See, this wasn’t the first time that thought had crossed your mind either. As you looked around the intimidating trees, you found it hard not too. There was nothing scarier than tall trees at the arse crack of midnight, and nothing more stupid than following your idiotic boyfriend into the forest with said tall trees to go ‘wandering for fairies!’

Yeah, you weren’t thinking when you agreed, obviously. You regret it now.

“Artie, do you really know where we’re going?” You asked, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Your coat was only able to keep just enough warmth in for your body, of course, but still, it did nothing for your cheeks. They had reddened from the chill and you were pretty sure they were frozen. You couldn’t feel them anyway.

“Yes,” Arthur stressed the word, also huddled in on himself, just not as much, as if trying not to show he was currently freezing his bollocks off.

“So, no then.” You replied and the only response you got was such a put-upon sigh. You rolled your eyes and tightened your grip. Seriously, why did you agree to this? It wasn’t as if you believed in them, the ‘fairies’. You knew you weren’t going to find anything, but your boyfriend had heard the strange rumours (a flying miniature person thing had apparently been spotted a couple of weeks ago) and he’d been so desperate to go in search of them, that it’d been hard enough trying to get him to wait until the snow stopped, let alone try and change his mind.

Maybe that had been why I agreed, you absently thought as you stepped over a branch, making sure not to trip, I didn’t want him out here alone. But is the two of us any better when we’re still alone? You shivered at the thought, dread slowly filling your stomach as you tried to shake the possibilities out of your head. Not something you wanted to think about, absolutely not!

“Wait!” Arthur suddenly hissed out, causing you to freeze in your position. Your leg was lifted behind you a little, bent at the knee as you went to place both feet back on the ground. Your arms were still wrapped around you, but the longer you stayed still, the colder you seemed to get.

Afraid to move, your eyes shot this way and that, trying to find the source of Arthur’s panic, but you couldn’t see anything. It was too dark.

“What?” You whispered back, too afraid to say anything higher. What was it? What was out there? Would it hurt you? What’s going to happen to Arthur? God, you hoped he at least got away before whatever monstrosity took hold of him as well.

“Just don’t,” He whispered out, slowly stepping over to you, making sure to mind the branches. “Move.” He stepped closer and you couldn’t help but frown out of confusion. What was he doing? You followed his movements, watching as he got closer and closer until-.

“There’s a fairy right beneath your boot. You were about to step on him.” Arthur explained as if that helped. You stared at him, eyebrow raised for a moment before you opened your mouth- and then closed it again because was there any point?

“Artie, what are you-?”

But before you could finish what you were about to say, he stood up from picking something up and turned to you, and right there, in his hands (well, hand), cradled like a newborn babe, was a tiny human. Or, or at least something that looked human - it had two arms, two legs, two hands, even a normal, human face.

But it was tiny.

“What- What is that...thing?” You asked. It was rude to call the...tiny human a ‘thing’, sure, but you weren’t sure of its actual species (you did just ask that after all) and, well, you hadn’t quite expected the reaction it gave.

As soon as you had finished talking, the little guy shot up, out of Arthur’s hand and straight over to you. There was a soft, musical jingle of its wings whenever it moved, but this fact only absently flittered through your mind, in favour for the much stronger thought of ‘this tiny person has just slapped me in the face’.

It was nothing more than a tiny poke, faint and barely. You wouldn’t have even noticed it had happened had you not seen the person come over. But you were still shocked, surprised it’d even happened in the first place.

“Don’t call him a ‘thing’!” Arthur exclaimed, stepping close to carefully pick the tiny ‘fairy’ from the air and gently stroke its hair. The gesture seemed to calm the thing, and you carefully stepped back from it, watching the scene while also trying to make sure you didn’t agitate the thing again, or Arthur. Neither of them was happy bunnies at the moment, it would seem.

There was silence. Nobody said anything, Arthur too content on calming the thing and the thing too content to let him, to speak, and you didn’t want either of their attention. For a minute later, you got Arthur’s.

“This is Frostbite, a Christmas Fairy.”

“Frostbite?” You couldn’t help but ask, only to back up, hands placed high in surrender when the fairy tensed and stood again. Arthur quickly calmed him down and glared at you, though only softly. Even when you annoy a thing that’s supposed to be mythical, he still can’t stay mad at you - that much.

“Yes,” Arthur stressed before moving to sit on a log, still gently stroking the fairy’s hair. After a moment, you carefully sat beside him, and besides the fairy tensing, nothing happened. You had so many questions; how did Arthur know there were actual fairies here? How does he know of this one? Why is the little booger nasty as hell? Wait, no, that last one can be explained and you know but still! So many questions but how to approach it?

You didn’t need to do anything but wait, apparently. Arthur turned to you and said, “I’ll explain later, I promise. I just wanted to see Frostbite, to see if he was alright.”

It didn’t answer anything but there was a soft smile on his face whenever he gazed at this tiny ‘fairy’, the smile he only ever gave when he was truly happy, and you loved that smile too much to disturb it. So, you decided, you’d sit there. Maybe you will talk to Frostbite, maybe you’ll get to know this tiny being, but you’ll sit there at the very least and watch as the two obvious friends talk.

You smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	4. how could you betray me? | america

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '...And expect me not to feel a thing'
> 
> _'Turns out the villain was the hero all along.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published: 16/12/2017  
> edited: n/a

Alfred had saved you, you remember that. You remember running through the snow, the ice chilling your bare feet to numbness. You remember your breath coming in short puffs, appearing as smoke in front of your face. You remember the panic welling up inside of you, urging you further. You remember trying to hurry but every once in a while, you had to slow down, to catch your breath and each time you did so, you feared for your life. You rarely sneaked a glance over your shoulder but when you did, you'd see the muscled figure of him.

It was night time but in this part of the neighbourhood, one or two street lamps weren't working. This meant not only did you have to trudge for darkness and snow, you couldn't see him properly, which terrified you even more. You needed to see him, to know where he was. You couldn't afford to lose track of him because that meant you couldn't stop. He was fast, he would catch you and since you couldn't see how close he was, he could catch you the second you stopped.

So you had to continue. You lifted your legs, making sure your feet wouldn't get stuck in the snow and hurried as fast as you could, but it seemed as more snow fell, it became harder to move. Your body ached, you continued to grow more tired, and the idea of just collapsing seemed to get more tempting as the seconds passed on. You tried to continue on though, but eventually, you were so tired, you didn't even release the dip in the pavement, until you were already falling, hitting the ground with a painful thud.

You laid there, stunned, cold and in agony, sure you were dead now. He was angry - you always seemed to make him angry... you could never win - that you had ran, that you had spoken back to him, fought back; and when he was angry, he wasn't gentle... He was never gentle. He scared you, but this didn't seem to change anything. You couldn't move, though you tried and you wanted to. It was like the cold had finally settled in, willing you to your painful death, and you decided to just let it. You couldn't feel anything, you didn't want to...

But life didn't seem to be through with you yet, because just as your eyes slipped close, so ready to be done with everything, you could hear shouting. It was unfamiliar but strangely calming, the tone reminding you of a young man. You couldn't quite hear what he was saying (it was like your hearing had been frozen), but the urgency in his voice and the anger, that was clear. The shouting continued, you still couldn't hear anything but it seemed to get louder, so you assumed the person was near. This was proven correct when you vaguely felt the warmth of someone, you couldn't find it in yourself to flinch though.

The person was moving you, lifting you with the carefulness of a mother to her newborn, and as you were carried away, you wondered who this hero of yours was, and where was the villain?

*

Turns out the villain was the hero all along.

It's not like you didn't know because it wasn't like you could actually not know. Alfred had been such a sweetheart when you both began dating, acting like the best gentleman the world has to offer. He held doors open for you, uttered 'I love you's every day, and he looked at you with love, pure, happy love. Everything was perfect, honestly, so perfect you knew exactly when it went all downhill.

Halfway through the relationship, just a mere four months into it, he started acting strangely. Where he used to hug you and kiss you often, he wouldn't come near you. He didn't say 'I love you' as much, and every time you tried to collect and maintain eye contact with him, he'd avoid it. He would look everywhere but into your eyes. You shrugged it off at first, thinking maybe something was the matter but knowing he'd tell you when he felt like it.

You went about life, carrying on without a care in the world...and then, as any good ol' story goes, the phone rang one day. Alfred had been out, you weren't sure where to though (he always avoided the topic whenever you tried to get it out of him), and you had been intent on ignoring it. You had been, but then it had rung another time and apparently you weren't as strong when it came to curiosity as you had liked.

Practically racing over to the phone, you hesitated only once before picking up the phone, muttering a greeting before coughing and repeating that greeting a little louder. For a moment, there was nobody, no noise, no voice, and for a second you thought back to all those horror movies where the killer would phone their victims. Of course, they had the audacity to at least breath through the phone, but-.

"Is this Chloe (Y/LN)?" It was definitely female, definitely nervous, and definitely not a killer. Though who you still weren't sure, the voice sounded unfamiliar to you. "Who is this?" You asked instead of answering the woman's question, but she seemed to just laugh and say, "Doesn't matter. Just wanna say Al's cheating on you, with me and two other girls. I didn't even know he had a girlfriend, so I'm as shocked as you probably are. I just wanted to say though, you had the right to know, as his girlfriend."

You were frozen. It was as if glue had appeared at the bottom of your feet and you couldn't seem to get rid of it. Your breathing was going all funny too, and you knew if you didn't control it now, you would probably end up having a panic attack, and yet here you are, staring unhelpfully wide ahead of you as your breathing got worse, feet stuck to the ground. You were only vaguely aware of someone shouting your name, and for a second you thought it was Alfred...and then you remembered, Alfred was probably fucking someone else, to busy to care about your panic attack.

"Chloe!" came that unfamiliar voice suddenly, startling you into a loud gasp, which set you into a coughing fit but hey, you were breathing through your nose properly now so that was good. "Chloe, you need to calm down!" You breathed, taking one breath, two, three- and then, eyes closed, you said: "I'm fine, thank you." The woman on the other end scoffed but otherwise said nothing. You didn't care though, instead just muttering a goodbye and then hanging up. You didn't want to talk to her, you didn't want to talk to anyone. You wanted to get away, to leave this house, it's four same walls suddenly too much for you. Was it just you or were they actually closing in? You were pretty sure they were closing in on you...

I- I need to go. I ca-, I can't stay here, you thought and so you did, you left, just like that. With an absent thought of coming to collect your things later on (or asking someone else to come and get them instead, you didn't care), you left, having only half the mind to collect your coat and shoes. You didn't grab your keys or your phone or your purse. You didn't care about that stuff, you didn't want anything to do with that stuff.

You were going to leave and you were going to do so now. You weren't waiting for him to come home, you weren't waiting for him to come and say excuse after excuse. You weren't going to fall deeper and get hurt again. Right now, you wanted nothing to do with love... It didn't seem to end up well for you anyway, so why would you?

As soon as you left the house, you slammed the door shut, to the house, to your old life, to him. You shut it all out, and for once you felt like you could breathe. You continued walking, and the further steps away you took, you felt yourself breathe more. It was...perfect, you wanted this feeling, this feeling of being free. You wanted to keep this amazing feeling, which meant you weren't going to date for a very long time. You smiled. That didn't displease you one bit.

(When Alfred finally arrived back home, he called out to his girlfriend, thinking she would answer back. She wouldn't. She never would because she wanted nothing from him. She would stay as far away from him as possible, and she hoped he'd do the same. Of course, he doesn't know this yet. So he'll continue calling out for you, wondering why you haven't answered, and a little part of him will worry about you, if you're alright...and then a phone call from one of his many girlfriends will ring out, distracting him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	5. hero or doofus | america (ft. america 2p)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published: 16/12/2017  
> edited: n/a

Something was wrong, very wrong. Alfred would usually sleep in on weekends, especially when throughout the whole week was the World Meeting. Not only were these extremely long and boring, but they often made him tired, to the point where he could 'sleep a century and still be tired' (his words, not yours).

It's because of this you would let him sleep in until eleven, and then you'd wake the grumbling mess since 'if you don't wake up now, you won't get any sleep tonight'. He would grumble and moan but get up anyway, following after you like some tired little puppy and you'd place an extremely-strong coffee in front of him to help wake him up. As he sipped on the coffee, you'd do some lunch for the two of you to eat, and as you ate, you talked and Alfred listened (sort of).

You'd do this every weekend (even the weeks without the World Meeting), and nothing's ever changed. It began when you two started dating and has never ended (hopefully, like your relationship)...

So, why, pray-tell, is he up now? It's nine o'clock, two hours early than he usually is forced to wake. He's in the kitchen, humming lightly under his breath as he washes a plate and cup up. On the smallish dining table is a plate full of a beautiful steaming breakfast and a cup of your favourite hot beverage. His blond (too bright, too...shiny?) hair is combed neatly and he's wearing a...suit.

Yeah, alright, something's wrong. Did he break something again? Oh god, what is it now? What's he broken now? Please, don't be Arthur's tea set. He's going to kill me, you mentally prayed it wasn't anything of Arthur's. You were meant to be looking after the things. He trusts you to look after them, after all, and to make sure Alfred stayed away from them.

"You going to stand there all day or...?" The sound of the man's voice trailed off, and you jumped, forgetting he was there for a second. You looked up, though, as confusion settled in because of that voice, it's...different. It's the same volume (that sort of deepish voice you'd expect from a young man) but there's something else, something in that tone he was using. It was playful but...not, the type of playful a killer would probably have. You shivered unexpectedly at the thought and quickly looked down.

This wasn't Alfred. It couldn't be, this man was too...different to be your boyfriend. He looked like him (how, you weren't sure), but it couldn't be him. A cough suddenly echoed throughout the kitchen, causing you to jump as you looked up, noticing instantly how the Alfred-look-alike was looking over his shoulder at you. Now that he was looking at you, you could see the blue of his eyes were a little too dark to be Alfred's, and- was that brown-? "Well?" He asked, and you looked, walking over to the table and sitting in front of the steaming plate.

As you ate the admittedly-delicious breakfast, trying to act as nonchalant as you could, the Alfred-lookalike finished up his washing, and once you were finished, he washed your things up too. Offering a small 'thank you', you rushed off to the bedroom, shutting the door and leaning against it. Why was there a lookalike of Alfred in the kitchen? Where was Alfred? Was he alright? What did the lookalike want? And the big question that needs to be answered; why did he think he could pass off as Alfred by acting like a gentleman? Arthur yes, maybe, but Alfred? No, because while he wasn't a jerk, he was a slob. He did not dress up in suits and he did not help with the washing up (unless asked, of course, and then he'll huff and puff as he helps).

Suddenly, a knock on the door behind you startled you out of your thoughts, and you quickly shot a hand to the doorknob as it began to turn. It stopped just as the man behind it asked, "Is everything alright, Chloe?" He asked, and though it held a concerned tone to it, the tone was too...dull to be genuine. You took a deep breath, and said, "Yeah, just getting changed!"

You could practically hear the smirk as he said, "You sure you don't wanna let me in then? Maybe we can find a way to keep you out of your clothes once more." You bit your lip as you gulped before saying, "N-no, it's fine, Al-Alfred. I'll be out in a minute!" There was silence for a moment before the sound of a huff could be heard and then footsteps before all noise faded. You waited a few more seconds before letting out a breath you didn't realise you were holding, eyes slipping shut and head falling back to hit the door.

What were you going to do?

*

You got dressed quite quickly, but still, you didn't go back out. You waited a few more minutes, and then when you realised even a second longer would alert Alfred-lookalike to something being wrong, you took a deep breath and stepped out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind you. You walked into the living room and going in, you noticed Alfred-lookalike was there, sitting on the sofa with one leg crossed at the other leg's knee, watching some random 'reality' show.

Despite contrary belief, Alfred absolutely hated reality shows. Another reason why this lookalike wasn't Alfred, you thought as you sat down on the sofa too, sitting as far away as you could without it looking suspicious. You both sat in silence, you not knowing what to say, 'Alfred' seemingly actually into the show. Only Alfred-lookalike seemed to be comfortable.

You hated it. You wanted to know what he wanted, you wanted to know where Alfred was, you wanted to know what he wanted from you, but no matter how many times you opened your mouth, nothing would come out. You tried taking deep breaths, tried waiting for a few minutes but nothing seemed to work. It's like the words were just stuck there, refusing to come out. Ugh, my voice hates me right now, you thought and sneaked a quick side-glance at Alfred-lookalike, noticing he was still looking at the TV.

Well, at least he's comfortabl-, you were interrupted from your bitter thoughts when the volume of the TV was suddenly turned down, followed shortly by the sound of fabric shifting. Gulping, you slowly turned to face the man, who was now sitting cross-legged beside of you, and asked, "Yes?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, just continued to stare- until he spoke, "You know I'm not Alfie, right?" You paused, not knowing what to say at that unexpected sentence. Were you being just that obvious? "Yes, yes you were, " The lookalike said as if he had read your thoughts, and you glared, annoyed partly at his comment, partly at his tone. You coughed and made sure you were fully turned before saying, "N-no, I dunn-," You were interrupted by a finger to the mouth, and you paused. "There's no point in lying. I know you know I'm not Alfie. It's easy by the way I dress, but hey, it was worth a try, right?"

You paused... Wait, what? You looked up at him, confusion clear, and said: "I know you know Alfie is not I." You couldn't help but snap, "Then where he is?" He chuckled and said, "Can't tell-," You glared and he huffed, "Fine. He's at McDonalds. He knows you'll be pissed so he sent me to distract you. He also wanted to know if you'd notice the 'Heroic America' from the 'Villainous America'. Obviously, you know him better than maybe even you think."

Well, of course, you've known him since you were little (or at least it feels like it), so you know the Hero America from the Villain America. But what you were rightfully annoyed about was how Alfred decided using his doppelganger as a distraction was a good idea, You were also annoyed how they thought Alfred-lookalike could pass off as Alfred. Nice to know Alfred has faith in me, you thought as you rolled your eyes and huffed at the Alfred-lookalike.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger, shoot the man who thought sneaking off to McDonalds - of all places - was a good idea." Alfred lookalike said, and you rolled your eyes. Well, now you know about him, he can leave now...right? He will leave... He better leave. You huffed again and silently wished Alfred would hurry up, so you could kick the lookalike out.


	6. miles won't stop me | prussia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published; 15/12/2017  
> edited: n/a

It started with a pen pal program that your mother had forced you into. Your sister had just left for university and you hadn’t taken it lightly, always having been closer to your sister than anybody else. It hurt knowing your sister wouldn’t be there for a while, and while you refused to admit this, your mother could clearly see it.

So, not wanting her youngest child to be alone, she’d signed you up for a pen pal, after making sure it was one hundred percent safe and sound, of course, for you were twelve at the time and while she trusted you well enough, she still wouldn’t take any chances. So she made sure it was a pen pal site made specifically for your age.

At first, you hated it. You spoke to a couple of other people (one thirteen-year-old boy and a twelve-year-old girl), but you just didn’t enjoy it. It wasn’t the same, talking to someone else other than your sister. It felt odd, opening up to another person, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. So you tried, if only for your mother, and then stopped. It wasn’t helping at all, and you didn’t want to get to know other people, let alone open up to them.

You just wanted your sister, and you realised how childish it was, to rely on your sister but...she had always been there for you, and now...now it felt odd without her. You felt like nobody would truly understand you, or even bother trying.

But then, out of the blue, a message popped up. It was from a then-thirteen-year-old boy named Gilbert, apparently, and after a quick sweep over his account, you learned he loved sports, pranks, and movies, among other things. He seemed interesting enough, and you answered with a polite ‘hello’.

It was full of polite conversation, at first, and you could tell the way the whole thing was going, would end with you two ignoring each other- but then, one day, he came on alone, annoyed with his ‘unawesome brother’, who was apparently deciding to move out. Though he had never directly said, you could tell he was quite close to his brother, as he often spoke about him highly. So, when he explained the situation, you couldn’t help but realise the similarity between you and your sister.

You also told him that you understand, your sister also leaving and that you were quite close to her; and that was when you both realised, there was somebody else out there who understood you. It helped you two to grow closer, and before you knew it, you were eagerly awaiting for the time you could speak to him.

Over time, you shared your most-used social media sites, to better to speak to one another, and soon you two were talking non-stop. It was suddenly, around the time when you were eighteen and he was nineteen, when you realised you loved him. Just like that, you realised that the flutter of your heart, the smile on your face, the happiness welled inside of you, was not caused by talking to a best friend, but by speaking to your crush, to the person you loved.

Confused, you had claimed you needed some time away, and left to think for a bit. It didn’t take that long to decide officially you loved him, but it did take awhile to decide how to go about it. Did you tell him? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if by telling him, it’ll make him not want to talk to you anymore? You didn’t want that, but you also didn’t want to keep this from him. Maybe...just maybe you could tell him, and then if he said he didn’t feel the same, you could just pretend it was a joke...or something.

Yeah, you’ll...you’ll do that. So, going back to the account, you said hello and didn’t have to wait long for a reply, the energetic greeting making you smile. You went back to normal, talking about anything and everything, and then, when there was a small pause in the conversation, you blurted it out. There was silence for a moment, and you couldn’t help but thank that Gilbert couldn’t see your face. Not only were your cheeks heated, but the longer the silence rang on, the more watery your tears got.

After the silence became too much, you began to type in that you were only joking, testing to see his reaction, when he wrote back, and the words….they warmed your heart instantly, making the blush on your cheeks impossibly redder.

A wide grin appeared on your face as you read the rambled words; ‘Really? Why? I mean! I like you too! Obviously! You’re amazing, it’s just...why? Why me? Of course, I’m not trying to say that liking me is a bad thing. It’s pretty hard to not like awesome me, but…’ He trailed off, and you replied with your reason, that he made you smile and laugh, that you felt comfortable talking to him, and that he seemed perfect. He was perfect.

It escalated quite quickly from there on; you two started dating and soon you were meeting one another, as much as you could (which was to say, not a lot, for neither of you had the money to do so, though you would try. You both visited each other in your own countries, him in Germany and you in (C/N).

While with each other, you would visit different areas, going to your favourite places, and spend as much time as you could. You found him so beautiful, his white hair and red eyes, and loved spending time with him.

Though of course, you'd always need to leave and go back home, and it hurt being so far away from one another, but you did it because whenever you'd get to see each other face-to-face, it made it even better, so much better to see one another, to be able to touch one another, finally.

And you both knew; in the end, you'd be together. You would live together, in Germany, right beside his family home, and begin your lives together officially. You couldn't wait for that point in life.


	7. prank | nyo!england

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published: 15/12/2017  
> edited: n/a

You knew there was no going back from what you were about to do. It never ended well (at least, it never did the other times you did it), but it was hilarious nonetheless if you were being completely honest. The result never failed to make you fall to the ground, clutching your stomach as you laughed loudly. The trick was always successful, and since you were bored, you thought it’d be a great way to entertain yourself.

So, you made sure you were armed with the right equipment, spraying cream onto her open hand and then quietly knelt down beside the bed. You waited for a minute or two, made sure she hadn’t woke up, and then, taking a deep breath, you carefully stood and leaned over to swipe the feather gently under her nose.

One, two, three strokes- and then you leaned back, waited, took a deep breath, and when nothing happened, stared with confusion down at the young woman. Alice didn’t react like she usually did, which involved a lot of mental flailing and (‘not’) girly shrieking. Sometimes it involved a pillow being thrown at you when she realises, but most of the time she glares and you laugh, causing her to glare even more. It’s quite fun and hilarious if I do say so myself, you thought, only to frown as you stared down at the still-unmoving woman, it’d be even better if I actually had a reaction from her.

Why wasn’t she reacting? Was she dead? Was she really just asleep, in too deep to be disturbed? Maybe if you tickled her nose once more, she would wake up...or do something. Do something! You thought, and leaned back over carefully to tickle the feather beneath her nose- and then it happened.

The reaction came but it wasn’t what you expected.

First, Alice shot up and practically tackled you to the ground, and then, while you lay there dazed and confused, she shoved her hand into your face, making sure to smother all of it in the cream. By the time she pulled her hand away, smirking like the nasty witch she was, your face was masked with cream like a clown who'd had a pie shoved in their face.

You lay there, looking up at her with a pout but she continued to smirk, wiping the last bit of cream on her hand onto the tip of your nose. “There, now you look like the perfect cream monster.” She said and winked before sliding off of you, getting up to smooth her nightgown down with her clean hand.

She disappeared off into the hallway, presumably to wash her hand, and you continued to lay there, thinking back to what had just happened. H-how...? Why...? She wasn’t….meant to…? Huh? You were confused. She’d always been the quiet one of the relationship, the ladylike one who never did a single thing wrong...even when you were a complete idiot with the pranks. She just huffed and walked off, giving you the silent treatment for however long it took for you to beg for forgiveness (and you always did...damn it, she had that type of effect on you). She didn’t...well, she didn’t prank you back before you could properly prank her.

Alice, right then and there, was the feisty girl you could remember meeting the very first time, before she ‘grew up’ and became the ladylike woman she is now….and god, did you love it. You smiled widely and shot upwards, rushing to stand just as Alice can walking back into the bedroom.

“...spending way too much time around, Alfred, (Y/N)! Not only are you thinking of more and more pranks but you’re also-!” Alice paused when she saw you had stood, shooting you a wary look at the huge grin on your face (which usually meant another prank for her), “What? Why are you looking like that?”

“Oh, nothing.” You said casually, shrugging as if you were asked a question about the weather, “Just wondering if you know...ya wanna….” You walked over with a casual air, and though she continued to give you a wary look, she didn’t move back; and when you were within arms reach, you said, “Meet the tickle monster!” and tackled her with a hug.

Alice shrieked as she fell onto the carpeted floor, and laughed as you tickled her. “St-stop it!” She shrieked and pushed at you, but you continued. Finally, she managed to push you off of her and gave you the sternest look she could muster...which ended up shifting into a big smile as she stared up into your childish grin.

“You’re such a child.” She said, shaking her head jokingly, and you laughed, leaning down to kiss her.

“Yeah, but you love me still.” Alice rolled her eyes but nodded anyway, wrapping her arms around your neck to bring you back down to her, kissing you back.


	8. there's forecast for snow | england

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> orignally published; 15/12/2017  
> edited; n/a

Great, just great.

You watched as the windscreen wipers swished this way before going back that way, repeating this every so often it felt something land on the window. You watched in despair at what exactly was landing on the window.

Today was Arthur and your anniversary, your fifth wedding anniversary actually, and it was a special one. You’d both often joked that it was ‘a surprise you’d managed to put up with each other for so long’, but it was only a joke. You loved each other so much, and you were glad of these little anniversaries, to remind you of how long you’ve been together.

But this was why you both always made sure to do something special on one of these days, even if it was just a walk down Southend beach while eating fish and chips. It was nice to just be with one another on your special day.

It was even better when it didn’t snow!

“Arthur, you said it wasn’t going to snow!” You exclaimed, turning to face Arthur while pointing out of the windscreen.

“It’s not my fault the forecast called for snow!” He exclaimed just as loudly back at you, and you rolled your eyes.

“It is when you don’t tell me! I was in the bathroom when the weather was on, remember?” He didn’t reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me at least? I wouldn’t have spent so much time choosing what to wear, and just wore the warmest thing.” You asked, gesturing down at your outfit. It was smart but not too smart, just perfect for your special day. Not perfect for the snow.

“You know how much you worry about looking good on these days, and I didn’t want to interrupt you.” Your husband replies, and you sigh, looking at the puppy dog look only he was capable of working. It was a strange mixture of defensive and apologetic.

You rolled your eyes. Sure, it sounded like an excuse, and sure, it was more likely he’d just been so excited about actually having snow that he forget to tell you (snow rarely came, especially these parts of England), but you knew, either way, Arthur meant no harm.

“Alright, but still, now what are we going to do? We can barely- Arthur, what are you doing?” You trailed off, asking the question upon realising your husband was buttoning up his coat, right up to the top. He hated when he had to do that, it felt too claustrophobic for him, so he only did it when necessary.

“Well, the roads aren’t going to shovel themselves, love.” He replied before stepping out of the car. As soon as the door opened, a gust of ice-cold air blew in and you shivered. Even under multiple layers, you were still cold. You knew it was going to be cold today (it was bloody Winter, after all), but you just didn’t expect the snow, especially not this much.

He shut the door before you could reply more, and you sighed, still huddled against the seat as much as you could. You really didn’t want to go out there, you were still cold inside the car, imagine outside. But you couldn’t just let him freeze to death himself, and besides, with two people shovelling, it should take quicker time to do it.

So, bracing yourself for the wind, you made sure everything was done up to its highest zip and bottom, before opening the door. You were sent into a shivering mess before you’d even stepped out, but you soldiered on, closing the door (though the wind caused the door to slam). Burying your nose beneath your coat as best you could, you moved to the back of the car, watching as Arthur rummaged around the boot of it.

“Need help?” You asked, and Arthur startled, jumping high enough to hit his head on the roof of the car. You winced.

“Sorry.” You replied in response to his half-hearted glare, “But do you?”

“No. I want you inside and warm.” He ordered, and you rolled your eyes. As if. You weren’t just going to sit there and let him freeze!

“Just hand me a shovel, Artie.” You demanded back, to which Arthur ignored you. You tried again, this time calling his full name. He seemed to just give up on that, whether it was because he knew your stubbornness or because he was just too cold to bother, you weren’t sure.

You thanked him, pecked him on the cheek (flinching at his ice-cold skin), and grabbed a pair of gloves you always made sure was in the there car, as well as a hat and scarf, making sure to tuck the scarf inside your coat so it wouldn’t flap in the wind. There was blankets, pillows, gloves, scarves, hats, all sorts to keep you warm, and you never appreciated them as much as you did now.

“Wrap up.” You warned Arthur before grabbing a shovel and walking off, just in time to see Artur roll his eyes but smile.

You started on the most-covered part first. The sooner that was out of the way, the better, you thought. Arthur helped as well, and as predicted, it took a lot less time with the two of you than it would have the one (though it would’ve probably taken less time than it actually did if either of you didn’t get distracted with snowball fights).

Once that was done, you both sided on either side of the car, you took the right and he took the left. There wasn’t as much on your side, seeing as how that was on the pavement side so most of the side went on there. You were just getting rid of the snow that had managed to slid down the small parting between car and pavement. This meant you finished before Arthur so you helped him, and soon the sides were done too.

The back of the car was done just as quickly as the others as well, and the relief of being able to shove the shovels back in and climb back into the car was immense. The inside of the car wasn’t really warm, but it was nothing that a little heat from the dashboard couldn’t fix. You made sure to turn the heaters up just a tad more than you would’ve usually, as well.

Burying your nose inside your scarf now, you peaked over at your husband to see he was doing the same and smiled. God, he looked so cute, covering in snow. He was like a little angel...a grumpy angel that had quite the eyebrows and loved tea. Your smile brightened. You were glad he was your husband.

Arthur noticed you staring and turned, raising one of his eyebrows in a questioning manner. You moved the scarf down to lean in and kiss him on the lips, to which he melted and leaned in as well.

The kiss didn’t last long, it was too cold for that, but you managed to make sure to utter ‘I love you’ against his lips before covering your mouth and nose once more with the thickly-knitted scarf.

Arthur looked a little dazed at the sudden kiss before the cold obviously got to him, and he quickly snapped out of that, covering the lower half of his own face as well.

Starting the car up took a little time but eventually, it came to life and you were off, still shivering but glad the snow didn’t stop you from going out. Though you wouldn’t be surprised if the space the car had been in just now, was covered in ten inches of snow.


	9. curse | canada (mother!reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published; 25/07/2016  
> edited: n/a

"I understand how much you don't want to do this, but it's the only way." You can still remember him saying, remember the emotionless tone he used, the way his eyes were completely void of emotion. You could still remember when the emotionless machine in front of you was once a child, a lively child who refused to let even the darkest of times dampen his light.

You couldn't help but wonder what had happened to that boy. Still, you assumed he could change; 'just an awkward phase', you had tried to tell yourself, but then...then he died, and instead of the typical words, he uttered those words as his last. It was like his dying wish, and you felt almost obliged to carry it out. You never expected your little boy to suggest such a thing, especially when it concerned his dearest brother. Alfred was as protective of Matthew as you were of the both of them; he wouldn't suggest something that could possibly hurt Matthew more.

And yet...

You clenched your jaw as you silently took a deep breath in, breathing through out of your nose so you wouldn't make anymore noise. The last thing you wanted was to alert anyone of what you were doing; you knew they'd disagree, and besides, you wouldn't be able to explain well enough. Everything that would come out of your mouth would sound like an excuse to even yourself, you knew this.

I can't let it stop me though, you thought, I've got to do it. For Matthew... Biting your lip, you quickly squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to let the tears come out, and took another breath. Please forgive me. Taking a quick peak out, you made sure the guards were as distracted as Alfred promised they'd be, before sneakily slipping pas them. You passed by, stepping over the twigs and leaves, ducking whenever there was a possibility you could be seen, and by the time you arrived at the medical tent, you were sure nobody had detected you.

You would have been so proud of yourself, were it not for the situation you were currently in. You bit down harder onto your lip, squeezing your eyes shut to try and focus on something else. You just barely managed to prevent yourself from shouting out in pain, and instead dropped down to the floor, carefully lifting the tent's fabric up to peak in. There was a nurse, but she was currently sleeping, one hand dropped to the side as the other laid carelessly over her stomach. Her mouth was open, allowing whatever noise that was (you think it may have been a snore...you weren't sure) out.

Honestly, you were surprised nobody had come to see what was wrong with the woman. Seriously, she sounded like she was dying! You shook your head and huffed, only to panic and quickly slide under the tent's fabric when you heard the sound of grumbling talk. Fuck! The guards are close by! You couldn't afford to get caught now, not now, not after everything.

Standing, you stayed quite still, making sure the nurse was still asleep before making your way over to your youngest son. You knelt down beside the cot, noting the way Matthew shivered so much, as if he was laid in a freezer rather than covered tightly with a thick blanket, and your heart ached in sympathy and pain. You hated seeing your son this way, you wanted to do everything you could to protect him. But when the only way to save your son is to curse him, is it truly worth it? Of course, any parent would say the obvious yes but is it? Truly? Would you rather your child suffer through the consequences - harsh and painful and slow - of a curse than let him have a quick ending?

Matthew's pained whimper broke you free of your thoughts, and you quickly shook your head. Pay attention, (Y/N)! We don't have time for fantasies! Bringing your bag around in front of you, you opened it and shuffled through it, searching as quickly as you could. Once you found the small vial, you pulled it out and tore the bag strap off, placing the bag down beside you.

Sending a quick glance over at the still-sleeping nurse, you carefully opened the vial, clutching the lid tightly in your fist, and leaned up. You gently opened his mouth, noticing the way his features twisted in slight pain at even that soft movement, and bit your bottom lip to prevent a whimper of your own from coming forth. You didn't want to alert anybody. "I'm so sorry, sweetie." You muttered softly, wishing he could hear, wishing and hoping he would understand, and gently placed a kiss on his forehead, "This is the only way."

Then you let the reddish colour of the vial's contents slip into his mouth. He began to choke, face twisting in pain and panic, but you continued. You had to, quickly! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Once all of the liquid was gone, you quickly popped the lid back on, throwing it into your bag which you threw over your shoulder. The sound of groaning could be heard, and a quick glance over at the nurse alerted you of her waking up.

You didn't have time anymore! You were going to get caught! You looked over at Matthew, who was already suffering the process of the vial's liquid, and realised that it didn't matter anymore. Your eldest son was dead, your youngest now in pain and cursed. The world was destroyed, those with less money forced to be the slaves of those with more. The world was no longer a place you wished to live in, it's wars having destroyed half of humanity's population anyway.

You couldn't offer anything to this world.. But Mattie can, you thought, stroking his cheek delicately, he can save the world. This curse can be the world's (and his) blessing. He will just need to get through the pain first. 'If you're going through Hell, keep going,' as Winston Churchill once said, and it was this quote that replayed over and over again when the doors to the tent were thrown open.

When the sound of angered shouting and pained screaming mixed to match a sadistic harmony, and the guards came rushing in and the nurse panicked, you did nothing. You stared ahead, eyes unseeing of anything but your beautiful boy, and you continued to gently stroke his cheek, absently noting how cold his skin was quickly getting. When you felt the guards grab you, you did nothing, and when the nurse hurriedly rushed over to try and hold Matthew's writhing body down, you did nothing.

There was nothing you could do. It was no longer your time to do anything, it was Matthew's.

His time was beginning. Your time...is up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idea of story:
> 
> The world has gone downhill. Due to the wars and then a nuclear war, half of the world's population has died, leaving the rest to try and survive. Its a harsh world, one in which the more money you have, the more likely you'll survive. Most of America went, which is why Alfred died, and Canada was one of the few countries that didn't die. However, as seen in this, he is dying. The vial (created by Arthur, who I believe died as well before) is to save him but of course, there are certain effects that aren't quite good. Not entirely sure what yet, but ya know, this was random and I literally just wrote as I thought. So, apologise if none of this makes sense.


	10. christmas shopping | america and nyo america (the jones twins)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published: 14/12/2017

You were meeting the twins. That was all there was to it, just a meeting with the two of them to see how they were getting on with their new job. Sure, it was only a seasonal one (there’s only one time you can be Santa and one of his little helpers, after all) but it was still their first real job - that wasn’t from family anyway (or just helping their brother, Matthew); and while you were only their best friend (unfortunately), you were still proud of them.

So you wanted to show that by showing up at their workplace and maybe buying them a cup of coffee (if they had time). It wasn’t supposed to be fancy, just three friends catching up.

Except, of course, nothing can ever be normal around the Jones twins, can it?

Maybe that’s why Matthew always refuses to go with them to go Christmas shopping (or any shopping, for that matter).

*

It was around eleven-thirty when you’d arrived, finally manage to find a parking space in the crowded car park, find your way through the large shopping mall, and then find Santa’s Grotto. You were sure it shouldn’t have taken you that long normally, especially when you’d left your house for a quarter to eleven, but the car park was just too crowded - it took far too long to find a space.

But still, you’d managed to find one and get to the twins in record time, despite getting lost, and when you finally saw Amelia - Santa’s Little Helper -, you froze as you took in what she was wearing.

Was she even allowed to wear that? It just seemed too short, considering there were kids around the place. That was the whole point of Santa’s Grotto, after all. You looked around and noticed quite a few men were waiting as well.

You shook your head, sighing. Of course, they were. Well, the staff gave it to her themselves to wear, so it can’t be that bad, right? you trailed off, biting your lip as blood rushed to your cheeks upon seeing her bend over a little, causing the dress to ride up a little as well. It didn’t show off anything but a little of her thigh, which was still enough for some of the mothers to tut and demand their children walk off instead.

Nope, it was bad. Maybe they just didn’t realise how tall she was. The whole costume does look a little tight on her.

You shook your head once more and sighed again. This was not what you wanted to see when you arrived. . . Oh, who were you lying to? You’d had a crush on her since, well, forever (her brother, too), so seeing just a little bit of thigh sent a blush to your cheeks and an excited shiver down your spine. . .

Oh, great, now you sound like a pervert. You huffed and rubbed your face, desperate to get rid of the blush before you went over there. You tried thinking of something else that would get rid of it, but the image of Amelia was still stuck in your brain, so instead, as an excuse, you choose to run to the Grotto. You’d say the blush was from running all the way here.

Skidding to a halt, you waited to the side for Amelia to notice, adding a little bit of a pant to your breath to keep the image of running up. It didn’t take long for her to notice you, and the huge beam of a smile seemed to brighten her face up. You could feel your cheeks get hotter. God, you hoped she didn’t notice.

“(Y/N)!” She squealed and ran over to you, arms wide open to clasp tightly around you. She squeezed you tightly, shaking you a little in her excitement. You rolled your eyes and hugged her back, as much as you could when your arms were held tightly to your sides, anyway.

“I’m glad you made it!” She said, excitement still making her voice quite high, once she’d pulled back, hands clasping your forearms instead.

“And miss the chance of seeing you and Alfred in your costumes? As if!” You replied, a smile curving the corners of your lips upwards, and she rolled her eyes at your comment. Still, you were sure you’d seen a blush there, just a slight one beneath her tanned skin.

“Yeah, well, I look fine,” She joked, with a little cheeky wink and a twirl to prove her point before smirking and pointing behind her at her brother, “It’s Alfred that looks stupid.” Her brother was sitting in the throne-like chair, framed with fluffy ball-balls and long stripes of tinsel around the top of it. He looked...well, despite the Santa Claus costume and the over-bulging, pillow-stuffed belly, he looked happy.

He was looking at the children around him with such childish excitement, you couldn’t really fault him for looking silly. In fact, the image brought a smile to your face - a tiny one that, to most people, wouldn’t have been noticeable, but unbeknownst to you, Amelia had been looking at you this entire time, which meant she saw it.

But by the time you shook yourself out of your staring and looked back over (blushing, might you add), Amelia had quickly gotten rid of her smile and was looking over at her brother.

“Well, how long ‘till your lunch break?” You asked, partly for want of a change of subject, and Amelia seemed almost relieved to hear it.

“Five more minutes...I think.” Amelia frowned as she tried to remember the time ‘till their next lunch break. You rolled your eyes. Typical. Amelia was always the forgetful one, which meant something because Alfred wasn’t the best at remembering things.

“Wait! No. It’s-.” Amelia was interrupted by her brother instantly tackling her to the ground, giving her no chance to even breath before she hit the ground. You blinked.

. . .

What?

You looked down at the two, Amelia looking ready to hit her brother as Alfred seemed completely oblivious to it.

Alright then. Alfred’s getting slapped tonight.

You chuckled at the two and moved forward to help Alfred off, who was currently struggling to due to his ‘belly’. Once he was straightened, he brushed absently at his costume before beaming at you.

Wow, how dare he look so cute?!

“When’d ya get here, (Y/N)?” Alfred exclaimed, already walking off towards the back area of the Grotto. Amelia growled as you pulled her up, giving her brother’s back a death glare, and you ignored it in favour of dragging her off after them.

You two slipped into the back area, and you waited by the entrance as they slipped out of their costumes, politely looking away.

“I just got here.” You answered his previous question, barely taking in the area. You just wanted them to hurry up, you were bored after all (and totally not because they were getting naked - definitely not) and wanted to get a cup of coffee sooner rather than later.

It didn’t take long for Amelia to finish, simply slipping off the dress to pull her trousers on and her t-shirt over her head. She was halfway through tying her trainers up when Alfred was finally finished.

Once they were ready, you looked over and took in their casual wear. Definitely better than the jolly suits they were forced to wear.

“Ready?” You asked, and upon their nodding, grabbed their hands and dragged them out. By the time you left, the line was already growing, waiting for their (unknown to the children) new Santa to arrive.

“So, where to first?” You asked, not sure what they wanted to do. As long as you went to a cafe at some point, you didn’t care.

“Shopping!” Amelia shouted before Alfred could even utter an even letter, and before either of you could respond, she was dragging you over to the closest shop. You huffed.

This was going to be a long day.

*

It wasn’t actually. Well, for a while.

Everything was alright; you went Christmas shopping, skipping into each shop you came across (though most often, none of you even brought anything in them), and managed to buy quite a few presents. It was nice and lifted a bit of stress off of your shoulders with the knowledge you had some more presents for people.

You were so sure nothing could ruin this relief.

And then Alfred smiled an honest to god full-blown, wide, cheeky, i-totally-didn't-break-the-thing-that's-broken smile.

You were too late to warn Amelia before Alfred was dragging her away so roughly, you were forced to break your grip with her hand, lest you ended up with a dislocated shoulder. Damn, Alfred always forgets his own goddamn strength!

Huffing, you made to move forward to follow them- only for Alfred to pause, shoving a hand in your face and practically shouting, “No! Wait here!” The two of them were gone before you could reply, and so instead, you chose to sit on a nearby bench, placing the bags at your aching feet.

You didn’t know what he was doing, but maybe that was for the best. Often you knew and often you were in trouble for it. At least this way you could just pretend you didn’t know either of them if something went wrong.

Chuckling at the thought, you whipped your phone out and began playing a game on there. Yeah, you’d do that.

Only you didn’t get a chance to, for not even a second later than you opening the game, you were interrupted by the sound of your name. Looking up, you were frozen into a state of wide-eyed staring as you watched Amelia try and drag Alfred away from a bunch of scrawny of looking guys.

And he wasn’t even fighting, just exaggeratingly bouncing back and forth with his arms faced upwards and his fists...doing something. He looked like he was trying to be threatening but failing, miserably.

You rolled your eyes and carried on playing with your game. Amelia will sort it out - eventually.

Two minutes later, she did with a punch to the leader of the scrawny boys and a slap upside the head to Alfred. The closer they got to you, the more you could hear their conversation. Still, it didn’t really help understanding it.

“You just had to punch him, didn’t you?” Amelia was saying, arms crossed over her chest as she stalked forward, a hard look on her face.

“He was gonna take the last muffin!” Alfred replied, actually insulted his sister thought it wasn't worthy of a punch. She gave him a look of disbelief before tutting. Finally, they were in front of you, though it didn’t stop Alfred from pouting and Amelia from frowning.

“Do I wanna know?” You asked, and the only response you got was a large, put-upon huff from Amelia.

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

Amelia glared. You chuckled.

One of these days, the shopping will actually end with just going home with millions of bags.

One of these days…


	11. lullaby | france

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published: 25/07/2016  
> edited: n/a

You had been told it could be different, the volume of pain these nasty things called contractions were. 'It all depends on the strength of your contractions,' the midwife had tried to reassure, even adding a tiny smile at the end of it, but your fierce glare quickly shut her up. It was obvious this birth was going to be more painful than Alfred's, because taking in what the midwife had said, you realised your contractions were stronger - a lot stronger.

Still, this- this you couldn't take. Every time a contraction came, every part of you seemed to clench painfully until there was nothing but that blinding agony. You wanted to scream, to cry and faint. Your body felt as if it were trying to split in half and yet something was refusing to let it; you half wished it'd go away, just let your body split to end this agonising pain. However, you also wished you hadn't sent Francis away.

It's not like you had expected this to happen; your last ultrasound had been a mere three days ago, and nothing had indicated an early birth. In fact, the doctor herself had said you could expect a healthy birth in three weeks, so when you sent your now-ex boyfriend away, you had done so with the full intention of sitting down and watching reruns of whatever episode was on, a big bowl of ice cream and fish fingers in your lap to slob out on.

You had not intended for an extremely early birth of your youngest. Trust, you wouldn't have sent him away if you had known. In fact, you would have clenched onto him so tightly he wouldn't have been able to budge even the slightest. Suddenly, you felt everything tighten, and you had to bite down hard on your lip to prevent the scream, eventually drawing blood.

Ignoring the iron taste though, you tried to breathe through your nose throughout all of it, and soon - though not soon enough - it was over. Your muscles relaxed instantly, everything going slack against the wall. You panted, face pale and shiny from sweat, and as you blinked sluggishly, wishing yet again you hadn't sent the Frenchman away, you thought, I am so killing Francis for this.

*

Francis hadn't left when he had been thrown out of the house. Instead he had huffed quite unprofessionally (but assured himself nobody had heard his none-to-fabulous huff), and walked straight to his car, unlocking it and getting inside. This had happened quite often near his and (Y/N)'s break up, and now it was the only thing that happened. Whenever Francis would try and talk to her, (Y/N) would just scream at him to go away and slam the door in his face (on the rare times she even opened the door, of course). They never really spoke, and then this morning, Francis gets a call from the exact same person who's been avoiding him, saying she needed company and instantly he had ran over.

They'd spent exactly three and a half hours watching TV and eating ice cream before he had said something, and then (Y/N)'s pregnancy hormones had kicked in, forcing her to kick him out. Now, he sat in his car, waiting for the moment she called him back because he had seen the look in her eyes, had seen the look of sadness and guilt and realised she was still lonely. She was just also angry and emotional.

The Frenchman sighed as he leaned his back against the headrest, eyes slightly drooping in boredom. He realised he could just leave, he realised how weird this looked to anyone else, but he couldn't. Even though he admitted breaking up was for the better, Francis still cared about (Y/N) and the baby inside of her. He viewed her as a great friend, and he would always care about her, despite their negative moments.

Francis huffed as he could feel the sweat drip down his forehead. It was twenty-three degrees, which wasn't a lot compared to what he was used to, but the air was humid and sticky, which meant sweat was all too common. He lifted a hand to press the window button down, when a vibrate suddenly shook his leg a little. Startled, he looked down towards his leg, stared at it for a couple of seconds and then pulled it out, realising that yes, maybe he should answer it.

Pulling the phone to his ear, Francis hit the green button and said, "Hello?" A rough growl echoed in his ear, and he refused to admit the squeal he gave. "Come back or I swear to god-." He quickly pulled the phone away, not really wanting to hear what she had to say, and quickly got out of the car, slamming the door shut and locking it. "Oi! You still there?" (Y/N) shouted through the phone, and Francis huffed, hesitantly bringing the phone an inch from his ear and said, "Yes. I am in front of the door. Could you open it?" She huffed and mumbled something, to which Francis asked if she could repeat herself. She did, shouting down his ear. "NO! I said, no! I can't! I'm in pain and complete agony and I'm scared and- and..." Her voice trailed off until all he could hear was light sobbing, the volume gaining with each ragged intake of breath.

Francis felt panic well up in him as his mind conjured images of (Y/N) laying at the bottom of the stairs, having fallen down them, or leaning against the wall, in pain from having hurt herself somehow. He quickly shook the images out of his head, and shoved his hand into his jacket pocket, filling around until he felt the keys. Quickly shoving the right key into the keyhole, he threw open the door as soon as he could and ran in- only to be faced with the exact image his mind had conjured up, (Y/N) leaning against the wall in the hallway as she clenched her eyes in apparent pain, one hand placed on the floor as the other was splayed across her bulging stomach.

(Y/N)'s eyes snapped open to reveal blazing (E/N), pointed directly at the Frenchman. Francis gulped before running over to his pregnant ex-girlfriend. "W-What happened?" Francis asked, and then instantly regretted it when the hand once placed on her stomach shot upwards to grab the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to face level. "Really? What's it look like I'm doing?" He gulped again and nodded quickly, eager to have her let go, which she eventually does.

"Just call an ambulance, please." Her voice took on a begging tone as she placed a hand on her stomach again, and her face scrunched up again. He nodded once more and pulled his phone out, dialing the number and asking for an ambulance. As he did so, he sat down beside her, letting her lean her head against his shoulder, her panting breath lightly fanning his cheek as she tried to calm her nerves. She whined loudly as another contraction hit her, and Francis gently whispered soothing words to her, one hand brought up to her hair to run through it.

Francis felt completely helpless. (Y/N) was so close to pushing and the ambulance had only just been called; Francis was afraid it wouldn't be here soon enough. Add that with the fact that she was early and... Francis clenched his jaw tightly, eyes closing shut for a second as he took a deep breath in. He knew panicking wouldn't help anything; in fact, it'll only make things worse. So, to calm both himself and (Y/N) down, he did the first thing he could think of - gently sing one of his favourite French lullabies, 'Fais Dodo'.

Leaning his cheek against her hair, he opened his mouth and began, "Fais dodo, Colas mon p'tit frère. Fais dodo, t'auras du lolo. Maman est en haut, qui fait du gâteau. Papa est en bas, qui fait du chocolat." He gently repeated the song verse over and over again, and every time a contraction came, he would sing just a little louder to try and help her ignore the pain.

After the fourth repeat, (Y/N) could not help but ask, "Are you really singing me a French lullaby about a sister singing to her brother because he won't stop crying for milk?" He froze before slowly nodding, but instead of shouting, he got a sigh and one nod. "Thank you." She muttered before another contraction hit.

Francis smiled and moved to lean down to kiss her, only to stop himself. He blushed, and to distract himself, the Frenchman carried on singing, clenching tight of her hand and singing a little louder whenever a contraction came. Of course, it never took away the pain of the actual pushing, but the song helped for the time before and after. Francis was glad he could help at least a little, (and seeing his son, Matthew made it all the more better.)


End file.
